Left Behind
by erebororbust
Summary: There was no place for children in war.


**Uh.**

 **So.**

 **I don't know exactly what this? It's just a random thing that came to me so I wrote it.**

 **Enjoy :3**

* * *

The day had come. The day he had to disappear, the day where he left everything he had and moved on to the true purpose that was calling him. The day where he became a new person, and the day where he left the person he loved the most in the care of others.

It was going to kill him to do it.

He shifted the bundle in his arms and kept walking, ignoring the frigid air. The snow crunched under his boots with each step he took. Snowflakes fell from the sky and landed on his shoulders, and on the small, warm body in his arms.

He wondered if he could turn around, if he could turn around and hide. Hide from this day, where his whole world would grow cold and empty. Hide from leaving his life behind, and then having to pretend he still had it within him.

But he was living this day. There wasn't a way for him to turn around and change it all, to keep what he had.

He had to leave his old world behind and begin to carve a new one.

The house before him, he didn't recognize it. The people inside he'd never met before, and yet he was leaving something precious with them.

The door opened by itself, a young woman with long brown hair staring at him. Lantern light spilled out of the house from behind the woman and illuminated the dark night around him. Her eyes drifted to the bundle held securely in his arms.

His own gaze fell to the child with soft, chocolate brown hair, his small fists grasping his shirt, and his small, youthful face, that looked so peaceful.

He had to leave his world behind. This small child, he had to try to forget.

There was no place for children in war.

He moved the child carefully. Handed him to the woman, who took him gingerly before calming, rocking the boy slightly in her arms.

He stood still, eyes lingering on the boy's face.

He knew he had to forget. He had to wipe that face from his mind. If he didn't he'd never be able to move on, he'd never be able to focus. But he didn't _want_ to forget. He wanted to remember the bright green eyes and the loving smile that always followed him, the small hand that would grab his much larger one and the loud, childish laughter.

He stepped forward, hand reaching out and cupping the child's face. His thumb rubbed softly over the boy's cheek. He leaned down, planted a gentle kiss on the boy's forehead. He whispered only a single word before straightening and turning away, walking down the street and away from that house.

" _Goodbye._ "

* * *

A year had passed, and he had not forgotten.

He knew that by now, he shouldn't be able to picture those green eyes so perfectly in his head. He has a new life, a new way of living. That child was not apart of him anymore; he was with another family, in another city, far, far away from him. He should not miss him as much as he does, he shouldn't even be thinking of him. He is at war with monsters. There was no time to remember what was before, no matter how much he wanted his world back. He should not be able to remember.

And yet he does.

* * *

Another four years go by, and he still remembers those green eyes.

War has beaten down on him, making him grim and closed off. He is hard to approach, and all who do are afraid of the short man given the title of humanity's strongest. He's cold and unforgiving, making many resent him despite him being their best soldier. And he can still see those eyes.

Absently, he realizes that the child would have grown quite a lot now in these in five years. He wonders what the boy looks like now; he must be taller and bigger. He can speak normally now, he's no longer a toddler. He wonders that if he didn't have those green eyes, if he'd even recognize him now.

He misses those eyes.

* * *

When the news that Shiganshina had been invaded and Wall Maria breached, he felt what was left of himself wither.

That child, with those emerald eyes; he had left him in Shiganshina.

That boy was most likely in the stomach of a titan now. He couldn't save him, couldn't run to the rubble of the city and look under every piece of stone and wood until he found him.

He had to accept that the boy was lost to the wages of war and that he wouldn't see him again. He had to accept that those green eyes wouldn't return and that he would never be truly _alive_ again.

That was the day where the life inside him dulled, where he realized that his world was gone and he had only ever been grasping at threads to keep it together.

* * *

He stands, rooted to the spot, in front of a prison cell. His arms hang limply at his sides. He's in a dungeon; it's dark and cold, the only light coming from a flickering torch behind him.

Inside the cell is a teenager, a boy of fifteen at the most. His wrists are cuffed and chained to the wall, and he lays unconscious on a bed. There's a thick bandage wrapped around his head and there are dark rings under the boy's eyes. He looks tired, extremely tired.

His eyes are trained on that still, youthful face, and wonders if his mind is playing tricks on him. Wonders if this really is the child he left behind, the child with the bright green eyes. He wonders if it's possible, or if fate just loves tormenting him.

He watches as eventually, the teen's eyes flutter and slowly open. The boy seems to hesitate for a moment, getting his bearings, before attempting- and succeeding- in sitting up.

Their eyes meet, and he feels his heart stop.

He sees bright, green eyes.

He sees the child he loved and still loves.

He sees the world he left behind.

And he feels alive again.


End file.
